Adventures in painting
by Emerald has been Cumberbatched
Summary: Mrs Hudson's kitchen needs painting. Sherlock and John volunteer to paint it. Hi-jinks ensure.


**Author's note: Fluff time :3 I'm in need of some fluff so I've written this little thing to cheer myself up :D **

* * *

When Sherlock woke up, he found he was lying on the couch with John on top of him. John was still asleep and lightly holding onto Sherlock's shirt, his warm breath ticking Sherlock's ear.

Sherlock allowed himself a small smile at the scene before him and shifted round a little so he could cuddle John more firmly towards himself. He loved this, he loved the quiet days they shared, doing nothing remotely exciting and just being in each others company.

A few minutes later John stirred and yawned. He turned his head to gaze into Sherlock's eyes and let a sleepy smile grace his face "g'morning" he said softly as he pressed a soft kiss to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock hummed softly and kissed him back with lazy enthusiasm.

When they parted, John climbed off of Sherlock and held his hand out to the detective "come on, up you get, we promised we'd paint Mrs Hudson's kitchen this morning!"

Sherlock groaned in annoyance and let himself be pulled up. He followed John into their bedroom where they stripped out of their expensive clothing and changed into loose fitting t-shirts and jeans. Once they were ready they ran down the seventeen steps and towards Mrs Hudson's flat. She opened the door with a smile.

"Come in boys!" She called cheerily, ushering them in.

Mrs Hudson explained that she wanted to redecorate the walls and had chosen a nice dark red colour for them. Sherlock looked at the can of paint with disdain. He wouldn't have chosen such a deep red colour, it reminded him of blood.

Mrs Hudson soon left them to get on with it and both boys began to paint the walls.

It wasn't long before Sherlock caught the playful look in John's eye.

Or felt the splash of paint hitting his cheek.

He put a hand up to his cheek and his hand drew away with the paint. He looked at the paint then at John.

"If it's a paint war you want, you'll have one, John" Sherlock said before flicking his brush at him. The paint hit John on his forehead, just below his eye and John giggled before throwing paint back at Sherlock.

It wasn't long before they were laughing and covered in paint. Especially John who's once white t-shirt now was just one huge stain of paint. He was laughing so hard that he accidentally splattered paint on Mrs Hudson's table. This only made him laugh harder and Sherlock laughed with him.

Once their laughing fit had subsided, they looked in dawning horror at the mess they had made of Mrs Hudson's kitchen. Paint was splattered everywhere and most of it wasn't on the walls. They looked at each other uneasily.

When Mrs Hudson came home and saw the mess, she wasn't happy. In fact she was extremely angry and ended up chasing them out of her flat, screaming that they'll be paying for the mess.

Once they got back to 221b they couldn't stop laughing. Sherlock looked at John and he laughed, John looked at Sherlock and he laughed. It was a never ending cycle.

It wasn't long before they went back to bed.

Sherlock's last image of John before he fell into a post coital sleep was John safe and warm and happy in his arms.

* * *

The next time Sherlock woke up. He was covered in tubes.

He looked around bleary and tried to sit up but the tubes all beeped and someone rushed to his side. It was a doctor.

"Mr Holmes, please keep still." The doctor said. His voice was distorted, like he was from far away.

"Mr Holmes, you've been in an accident and have been in a coma for the past week, you need to keep still" the voice said again.

"J-John?" Sherlock asked weakly. The doctor flashed his colleague a worried glance.

It was the last thing he saw before drugs pulled him under.

* * *

When he next awoke, Molly was by his side. He also noticed the tubes were not as much anymore and he could move a little.

"Molly, why am I here? Where is John?" he asked again. His voice was hoarse and ragged. Molly looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"Sh-Sherlock...You and John were chasing a suspect and he lashed out. He caught you on the cheek then knocked you unconscious. John was wounded more badly. He-he was stabbed in the chest, a deep cut. He bled out before the ambulance could arrive. I'm sorry...I'm so sorry"

"But...I was just with him. We were painting Mrs Hudson's flat! This doesn't make sense!" Sherlock said softly and Molly's eyes softened "Sherlock...that was a dream. You were in a coma"

"But..no..John can't be dead. He can't!" Sherlock struggled against the hospital equipment,he thrashed so much that nurses came in and he wasn't aware he was screaming until the nurse stabbed him in the arm again and all was darkness once more.

* * *

The funeral took place a few days later. On a warm morning in summer.

That was the last warm summer day Sherlock ever experienced.

* * *

**Author's note: Hopefully, I've got you Princess Shania. You thought my revenge was through? You thought your world was safe? It was an illusion, a comforting lie told to protect you. I hope you enjoyed these feels because I've now had my vengeance.**

**At least I hope I did anyway. **

**I also tried to do a bit of foreshadowing with the paint. Not sure It really worked but I tried XD **


End file.
